Trepidation
by Tails-Chan
Summary: Nowhere is safe. When a young man meets a mysterious girl, what once started as a shallow chat became a fate worse then hell. Warning Blood/Gore. Complete
1. Chapter 1

Finishing its cycle, the sun began to set, growing large on the horizon as another day ended

Disclaimer: Here we go again…

I don't own Hostel! But the characters in here are mine. I haven't seen either movie but awhile ago I was watching 1 scene where some guy had his ankles cut. Naturally, based on my experience it was laughable when compared to all the friend induced paranoia that it was the most "horrifying" torture movie ever made. And then came the challenge that "I couldn't write a torture sequence if I tried." Well here is my answer. And yes, this story has ties to Hostel, or else it wouldn't be here. One of the characters is an ex organization member. Although I haven't seen the movies I am fully aware of how the basic theme and concept work. (To save you the trouble the torture doesn't begin until next chapter so if you're here for that alone, come back later lol. But I can imagine that even the movie wasn't a solid 2 hours or so of pure blood and gore. Don't read if you don't like, I won't kill you.)

* * *

Finishing its cycle, the sun began to set, growing large on the horizon as another day ended. It would soon be dark and yet people still moved at all hours of the clock; without regard. It never ceased and the world was full of the same driving, walking, talking, and well….nothing. Just another loop in the cycle; or "Predictable" as any normal US citizen would say…

Unless of course you weren't them…

Sitting in a cooled position at an old wooden desk Ashta quietly meditated as she worked. Focused entirely on the task before her she almost seemed to be in a trance as she sharpened her specialized dagger on the smooth granite stone. Surrounded by darkness, the rhythmic scrape of metal on rock seemed to fit well with the flickering candlelight and the crackling fireplace. Hewn from stone the entire room might have been comparable to the 14th century. However right now none of that mattered, her waiting was at its end and in the distance she could hear the faint rattle of chains and the clumsy footsteps of her worthless subordinates.

_Kyle was his name?_

As if being able to see though stone her eyes played the wall. Well yes, she did know his name; but at this point she had scarcely cared so much that the question almost seemed genuine.

Ending the all too fluent motion of her blade sharpening, Ashta looked up at the nearest candle, letting her eyes burn as her mind drifted.

* * *

1 day ago…

Kyle was 22, approximately 6'3 and had a thin build. And while most people were quick to call him weak he had a decisive mind and could do much when it came to cardio and endurance. Having brown highlighted hair, it arced down to eye level from a centre part as complex hairstyles never really cleaved on him.

More often alone then not, to most girls he was only slightly above average for good looks and would always wear a serious expression when not engaged with family or friends. Mostly anti-social and callous to the world around him, his blue eyes were somewhat sharp and he possessed a light tan on his Caucasian skin.

--

Kyle left the mall, having finished his errands for today. Rather annoyed and slightly confused he was in a tense mood as he revved the engine of his black Toyota supra. Shifting into first gear he screamed out of the lot, stopping briefly by the merger before flooring it again. Damn! Between the money problems and Ashta, today was not turning out to be a very good one. As if the surprise attack of multiple bills hadn't been enough the sexy girl he had met online was seriously pissed at him. Feeling his anger rise Kyle sped into the next intersection without regard to the red light. Then, shifting down without breaking, let the 1990 supra slide into a smoking turn before accelerating though to the next straightaway. Failing to notice that behind him his attention was not forgotten and a black SUV turned, keeping its distance.

More in his mind then his car, Kyle thought. He really did like her, Ashta that was….well and he didn't. Meeting though text messages was a lot different then meeting in real life, and needless to say so was she.

Breaking hard in impulse, Kyle screeched to a halt wearing the tires before the red light, trying to calm himself as his mind raced.

To put it simply she, or Ashta, was WAY to controlling. He had known this for a long time as they had chatted for almost two months. But even the veil of cyberspace couldn't fool him that she had been somewhat out of his league. He didn't know how she did it but no piece of information could escape her no matter how private. Granted, a lot of it had been voluntary but her insatiable craving for his inner secrets while refusing or deflecting her own were beyond unfair. In the end it made him feel like a bitch, and if anything was the total opposite of what he stood for. How the fuck he let it get this bad was beyond him, but her inability to share was just the tip of the iceberg. Her skills at reading people even though monitors were incredible and it was with increasing aggression that she would try to pull him apart. Told or untold his life had slowly appeared on his monitor written by some bitch who was probably a government agent with too much power. Of course this pissed him off, feeling exposed and naked before some girl with a sexy alias pic; prying mercilessly into his private sector. In fact he had seriously doubted that was what she even looked like. Until the one day she had invited him to meet for the first time….yesterday.

"_Yesterday…"_

The setting might as well have been picked straight out of a damn French catalog. Meeting at a fountain in front of a 5 star hotel at night; how unoriginal. At least he had been wrong about the photo though. She was indeed very pleasing to the eye, even up close. Tanned with dark skin and further refined with medium sunbathe she was gorgeous. At about 5'11 her curves were nearly perfect, and the parts that people could only nip about reeked with athletic properties. Beautiful lips and long brunette hair, smooth hands and feet… Even the apparel she had chosen fit perfectly. A long black dress that articulated her feminine features but wasn't too tight. From top to bottom the black material covered her from just under the armpits down to her mid thighs, the top being supported with a strap that went around the back of her neck and connected near the mid chest line just above her breasts. As for the face, it was a masterpiece and her Ethiopian features seemed to surpass even Liya Kebede with the addition that she was a lot younger. In fact the very sight of her almost made him forget all the stress she had heaped on him.

However as he approached her there was one small detail that seemed to undermine and contrast all the supernatural beauty she held.

Her eyes.

Even from ten feet away they hit him like a sledgehammer, sharp orbs devoid of warmth and so very cold, they were like jagged ice. The sight of them alone was enough to make Kyle shiver, never mind the depth they held. And it was with some difficulty that he pulled his mind away from his instincts, which for some reason were now very alarmed.

"What's wrong?"

Strangely enough her voice was kind.

"Uhh…" not being one to lie to a living lie detector Kyle confessed. "Your eyes…they just seem so…cold."

"Cold?" she laughed then took his chin in her palm, forcing him to look at her. "You must be dreaming."

Kyle stared at her, his anger starting. He didn't like being held by the face, especially since it's remembered connections were somewhat unpleasant. On the other hand if he blew the date off right here and now it would label him as the would-be "stereotypical" bad guy. Besides he had never been on a date before and his prolonged loneliness was urging him not to screw it up.

--

Hazing back to the real world, Kyle accelerated lightly, feeling most of the stress leave him as his car pulled away.

"Cliché…" he murmured, smiling slightly.

Well it was. Dinner, movie, car ride (in his car at least) as well as the same irritating questions from the internet; first dates are always hard to do, especially when there is a dark nagging distraction in the back of your mind.

As he could remember the first five minutes after seeing her face had been not too bad as he had simply brushed away the thought of some deep dark, painful secret lingering in her. But damn, why did it continuously show up every time he saw her eyes? It was annoying as hell, not to mention confusing and irritating. And it didn't take long before he shoved it into a corner of his mind and enjoyed the evening. His instincts and soul could shut the hell up for one night…

Blinking, Kyle signaled and changed lanes smoothly, still smiling to himself as he continued to jump the line between reality and day dreaming.

--

That wasn't the only reason he felt she was too much for him. After a date it's almost canon to take the girl back to her place (or your place if she asks) and since the result was the latter it wasn't long before the two of them were in his small house. Fumbling for the lights Kyle had only managed to get one before she suddenly rushed him to the sofa pinning him under her weight. Then as silence embraced them she did the same.

Kyle braked, nearly missing the light. Damn! He had so stop thinking about this, the end of the fairytale was simple. They kissed and then she left. Or rather "left him" to lie on "the couch"…alone. Subsequently the confusion of her lips, bizarre character, and what she was planning left him in a daze.

Afterwards Kyle had gone outside, thinking she needed a ride home but was surprised to discover that she was nowhere to be found. Given the remote location he knew she needed transportation but that thought only fueled his sense of insecurity.

"What the fuck?" had been his own words at that point. Had he been tailed? He didn't know, and it was likely he wouldn't find out. Being with Ashta was as mysterious as it got.

Kyle grimaced. She didn't talk about herself, she plagued him to answer her, and she didn't even ask about anything. It was as if she didn't care, and he was some toy for her amusement. Furthermore she was 25 and he was 22. The thought of being bossed around for the rest of his life by an older fem hardly seemed appealing no matter how sexy the girl was. Combined with a sense of anger and feelings of being "used" he had made his decision and it was a strange moment when he wrote the final words to her on his computer.

"Get lost!"

That did it, at least he wasn't so submissive anymore, the pent up, concealed rage of two months released in two simple words. Nothing could have felt better. Some guilt did remain but it still couldn't compare with the relief. Being the compliant one had pissed him off, and even in his mixed emotions, had cursed himself for the vulnerable position his loneliness had put him in.

Emotions were worthless anyway, especially since the only ones he felt after the age of seven had been pain, anger and isolation. Having his parents die at a young age followed by the rest of his siblings had done a good job in making him callous. Relationship building had suffered from it and now thanks to Ashta he was determined that this would be the last time he ever listened to a feeling called "loneliness." Most of his life had been lived in isolation anyway. What difference did it make?

Stopping for another red light Kyle considered. There was just one small problem though. He knew Ashta was highly volatile and wherever she was, she was probably steaming. If he had learned one thing from her it was no one ever said "no" to Ashta. She was a control freak, one that greatly understated the very definition. And if her learnt internet behavior wasn't enough, her eyes had been extremely cold and calculating. And were probably a perfect reflection of her inner character.

Even the thought of that made him shudder. A girl is supposed to make you happy not shred you apart and make you cold. Ashta was like a legend, or in this case a myth and figuring out what made her so apart from the rest was something he really didn't want to pursue. It was almost assured he would see her again, and he shook his head at the concept.

Finally, having enough of the confusion he dismissed it entirely. If he ran into her again then he could use "parting talk"; for now he would focus on driving.

--

The roads were quite bare today mostly because of the annual summer events and a major football game in the stadium. Kyle, being unaware of this only thought it strange and thought no more of it. It was quite soothing to drive with few cars around anyway, namely cops since they had the knack of always finding something wrong with a modified street racing car.

"_And it would have been turbo charged by now if not for those damned bills…" _Kyle thought to himself. That last setback guaranteed that he wouldn't be able to upgrade his hobby until sometime next month. Patience had not been one of his virtues, especially when it came to cars. Cars were his life, since to him it always felt as if he was going somewhere, somewhere new.

He thought about it for a few more miles, eying the grey overcast before finding the small 2 lane that would take him to his distant home. After all "City life sucked." Or rather that's what Kyle would say frequently. Indeed to him, living thirty miles outside the metropolis had many appealing factors. No cops, no noise, cheap land, cheap rent, and oh yeah…no cops. All of which outweighed the 30 and occasional 17 minute drive out.

Reaching the intersection and turning for the last time, Kyle joined the rural-bound road unable to keep himself from smiling. Ahead of him loomed the all too familiar farmland, bordered with its endless trees and plains of grass. In the last two months he had almost forgotten the freedom an open road could offer. It was quiet, peaceful, and serene; and with one accord urged him to do what he did best.

He needed it anyway, some quick thrill to ease his mind. There had been little traffic on the road today and this particular stretch held none. Grasping the shifter firmly Kyle was just about to gun it when a sudden movement jerked his vision to the rearview mirror. Focusing in on the image, Kyle was instantly crestfallen; a grim visage taking its place.

In the distance a black SUV had just joined the same road.

Now normally Kyle could have cared less except that this time it wasn't just the one but the trailing image of three more that merged in behind the leader. All were identical and even from this distance it wouldn't take an idiot to realize they were police suburbans.

"_God damn it…" _Kyle whispered.

Eyes glued to the mirrors, Kyle maintained his speed, fighting his motive to accelerate. Although he could definitely say they were catching up, there was a good chance that they weren't after him and with a little luck they would probably pass and leave him alone. Unfortunately it was still unnerving and if Kyle knew one thing about the police, it was they always resorted to extremes.

Keeping to the slow lane and watching the mirrors carefully Kyle was far from amused and kept his usual serious expression, even to the point where the deep rumble of the modified chase vehicle rolled right past his car, followed by the second. And while it was relieving to see two of them pass, it spiked his adrenaline when he realized the other two had not, and his eyes darted to the rearview mirror. Being no stranger to cop cars, window tinted black SUV's were a brand new thing, not to mention four of them. And although they were Chevrolets by make Kyle knew from the sound that the engines sure as hell weren't, and that these were no simple k9's either. Taking note of the two behind him with narrowed eyes, Kyle switched his judgment forward, gazing straight ahead as the dual initiated a rolling roadblock. There was only one thing to say at a time like this.

"_Fuck…"_

Cursing the fact his hope was now stupidity, Kyle clinched his jaw. Watching as at the same time the moving blockade quickly but efficiently began to take its position at the rear; making sure that breaking wouldn't be an option. Then, matching speed with the supra, began to close the gaps.

Meanwhile in his car Kyle was getting aggravated. The stupid cops (if that's what they really were) hadn't said anything or even flashed their lights; on top of that he had done nothing wrong. Yet by now it was pretty damn obvious that they were going to take him and it was exactly this kind of ill-treatment that had made "riding dirty" his new favorite song. It had been months since the last incursion and now all of a sudden it was as if the president himself had a grudge against him. And if that wasn't enough the last bust had been his "last chance." This time they would take his supra away weather he ran or stopped.

Kyle's grip tightened on the wheel, his decision already ahead of his brain. If that's the way it was going to be then it wouldn't be done submissively. Not this time. He had already done that shit with Ashta, it wasn't going to happen with the fucking police. Tensing his hand on the shifter Kyle gauged the distance before slowly changing lanes.

That's when it started. Roaring with the sound of a supercharger the second of the rear guard quickly rammed…hard. The supra weaved a bit and inside Kyle cursed in surprise, barely holding the car stable. Bearing down on the black supra the rear SUV hit again pushing it lightly while the lead unit braked. Caught in the middle and not wanting to be sandwiched, Kyle stormed the gas pedal, darting blindly into the oncoming lanes. His engine roared its own challenge and the young racer burst forward, showing why his car belonged in the drift races. Avoiding the lead SUV was easy enough and it only took a second to leave the group behind as he shifted into forth gear. Faced once again with the open road Kyle could see there were no cars for miles and from the tension that impacted him just seconds ago he suddenly wished that it wasn't the case. Whatever happened out here would probably stay out here. He was alone which meant there would be no witnesses.

Knowing police protocol all to well, Kyle was beginning to doubt that the silent SUV's were really cops at all and he screamed the RPM, redlining it into his final gear. Swallowing and listening as the Black Chevrolets growled in unison.

The chase was on.

--

Not wanting to become one with the ditch Kyle kept the supra in the middle of the road. He had managed to hold them off for a bit but his engine was dangerously close to blowing. In all his mirrors the pursuers grew and once again he found himself cursing the lack of a turbo kit. There were no sub roads for miles which only left him the possibility of an outrun, one that was now failing miserably. Turbo or no it didn't make sense that his car wasn't--. Kyle's eyes suddenly widened, the realization hitting him like a dark omen.

"Shit!"

Now he remembered. His last race had been on a very tight course where he had shortened his gear ratios for added acceleration. A great move, but it limited top speed and after the race he had forgotten to change it back.

Heart racing, Kyle snapped his neck around. Behind him the four suburbans were now driving side by side, covering every single lane in a parallel wall. The road ahead left nowhere to turn and doing a 180 was out of the question. With the few seconds of space he had left there was nothing he could do.

Roaring with their engines they moved up fast, like angry vultures intent for the kill. The two centers kept close, often trading paint with the supra's bumper as the outsides accelerated forward. Keeping the slack to a minimum they bordered the small car, sandwiching it from both sides as the rear guard was reduced to one. Dwarfed by a myriad of three heavy vehicles Kyle was herded one lane over, his car denting as he tried to resist. With one lane now open the final SUV took it, racing ahead to take the lead. Then eclipsing itself in Kyle's remaining view, completed the diamond; effectively erasing all means of escape as it touched bumpers. Again Kyle tried to force his way out but the SUVs were too heavy and the space was too small. Completely incased, it was a short bumper car contest before his vehicle was at a standstill. The next moments happened quickly.

Tons of what appeared to be secret service agents stormed the car. Working with a large suction device from the back of the lead SUV the windshield was ripped off and moments later Kyle was in their hands. He struggled against them but a sharp prick to his neck followed by unconsciousness soon put an end to that.

* * *

End of chapter 1

Obviously this isn't the end. I've got the whole thing written but it's in 2nd draft. If you have anything to say, go ahead. I'm a beginner but I'm trying to be a good writer. At least this story is a huge improvement over my last one.


	2. Chapter 2

Update: I am making progress on the story. I hope to have it done soon but I'm worried about rushing and causing errors. If you have read this far, I assume your kinda curious and I thank you for reading. (If not your probably here for the torture as mentioned in chapter 1, ha!) Be warned though after this chapter it escalates into something much worse. (hence the blood/gore warning)

* * *

Holding the candle light a bit longer in her heartless face, Ashta continued to sharpen her blade with a slow obsession. By now it had become so sharp that she didn't doubt a simple touch could draw blood. It had taken many lives in the past and today it would taste blood again…

Nearly slipping into reminisce Ashta was grateful for the background echo of secure chains and departing footsteps.

_Finally..._

Sheathing the dagger she stood up; eyeing the candlelight one last time before disappearing into the black doorway.

* * *

Not to far away in another room Kyle groaned weakly. The sedative was still semi active and time didn't seem quite real yet. Pain did, but that was still beside the point as his mind began to cycle though its inevitable questions.

"_Where am I?"_

It was cold and his eyes were still having trouble focusing in the light. As far as he could tell it was artificial, but the blur wasn't helping much. It was also quiet, very quiet with so little sound he could hear his own pulse throbbing in his ears. Apart from uncertainty, at least he had enough self awareness to know he was standing up, partly from the knowledge that his bare feet were freezing and something cold grasped his wrists.

Wearily, Kyle tried to clear his head and he swirled about, rotating his neck in random directions. Still groggy, his desires were mixed and his only concern was that if the police were indeed behind this it would easily place them at the top of his revenge list. Kindling the thought, the anger helped to push the migraine back as he began to fight for full consciousness. It took a few minutes, bobbing in and out of relative thinking, but at long last the drowsy agent left him. It was hardly a reward though as the first thing Kyle saw robbed him of a few heartbeats.

Staring upwards, Kyle could see his arms were raised high above his head at tight 45 degree angles; with solid steel shackles encasing a good three inches of his skin below the wrist. The chains which connected them to the holes in the ceiling were taut and his attempt to move was quickly checked; being useless at best. Looking down didn't increase his fortunes either since two more shackles bound his ankles with the same merciless strain. Anchored though similar holes in the rock, the chains were so tight his heels wouldn't even lift from the ground. Having already noticed he was naked except for his black boxers the sudden realization of what was happening crystallized and a new kind of fear began to creep into him as his eyes darted.

It was a cell, one that was made of stone and had been crafted with only one doorway; which at the moment held nothing but darkness. And on either side of him, two tables acted as cherubim, concealing their various shapes and outlines from under grey cloth. Finding it difficult to look over his shoulders, Kyle managed to snap pictures of the empty space behind, noticing the suspended lights last. Apart from the tables the room was bare despite being 30x30 feet or so.

Kyle tried to breath. The back of his mind was falling into denial and the thoughts about what would happen were whirling around him.

His mind fought over it, as his emotions began to slip. Nervousness took hold.

Soaking all this in took only seconds but the alarming part was not the room itself but the fact that he was here in the centre of it; chained and helpless. It looked more like a torture chamber then anything and the foreboding part was that his soul was telling him it was exactly so. Normally Kyle had a good grasp on fear as he had been in fights; with cops, he had his life threatened on numerous occasions, and even came close to drowning once. He also had been graced with the adrenaline rush of almost crashing at 120mph. There were other incidents too but the constant thing was that the fear seemed to stay on the same level. All of these (for the most part) had been in situations he put himself into and where he had the most control of what happened.

But here he was alone, exposed, and helpless with not even the remote chance of escape. He couldn't defend himself and it was quite possible no one would hear him if he screamed for help. There were no windows here and the smell of stale cold air stabbed him with the awareness of being underground. Combined with the universal fear of the unknown Kyle's heart began to race as he attempted a struggle; the chains mocking him as he squirmed.

Struggling harder and harder, Kyle threw all his strength at the bonds unable to bend one limb or rattle one link. Trying his wrists in hope that they might slip he had only managed to flex his hands once before a sudden and rather ghastly echo rasped his tuned hearing. Stopping instantly, Kyle listened. The echo came again, a clear sharp sound; and again becoming almost rhythmic. The fourth note brought a huge crash with it, leaving a sort of rusty shriek and a slam that vibrated his bones as if it were a jet. The first sounds continued after that and it didn't take long for Kyle to realize they were footsteps. Perfectly still with the fear in all but his face, he could only listen as they approached, spiking his adrenaline while he faced the hollow doorway.

They were coming this way.

Slowing up, the footsteps pounded against the silent air until at last a shape shifting figure appeared just outside of the ominous doorway. While just out of range and veiled in shadow Kyle knew, no doubt, that it could see him. Probably even see his body's shaking from his rapid pulse.

* * *

Ashta stood in the doorway, clad in the exact apparel she wore last night. She knew that he couldn't see her yet and she would leave it that way since psychological intimidation would suffice for now. Being an expert at reading people it was mere child's play to see he was quite fearful. And although she would admit it was interesting at how most of it escaped his facial expression, his body on the other hand, was on the edge.

Taking a moment Ashta swept her eyes over his figure, enjoying the lust her dark mind was generating. Aside from the rich and famous stereotypes of what a man should be, he really did look quite good. A cute face and mostly hairless body down to the waist; it was a pleasing sight to her. She knew he was twenty two but without his usual attire he looked as if floating in the margin of nineteen or twenty. Hardly grotesque, a few bones of the ribcage were showing and most muscles although small looked strong and compact. In the architecture of his own body it wasn't a bad sight at all; even though she might have guessed he was only one sixty or one seventy pounds.

Breaking from her momentary desires Ashta's mind suddenly snapped, catapulting her to the other side of the scale.

"_If only..."_

Yeah, if only he hadn't betrayed her and said those last words "Get lost!"

Tightening her hand so that her finger nails almost pieced herself, she let her eyes close. This youth had no idea what he was dealing with. No one upon no one said "no" to her. And he would soon find out why.

In their brief relationship she had hidden her wealth, influence and power from him easily. Thus in the process had also hidden her biggest weakness. Her desire for power… A common trait between many it was incredibly excessive in Ashta. And mixed with a parentless inheritance, an unquenchable lust, and violent mood swings had become lost to voracity at the early age of twenty.

Now twenty five, having many chances to apply it, her interests for pleasure and fun were almost demonic. She had been to Europe, and had had a lot of fun there with the organization. But after time even the auctions, the torture, and the circle of power was annoying…not to mention boring. Not that she needed it; here in the US it was just as easy and with her amount of influence and resource in the dirty world it wasn't a challenge to get anything she wanted.

Greater then this was the truth that she was very smart. Gaining wealth and power always took brains, and with a ruthless mind such as hers she was a natural. To top that she had spent the last fifteen years training in all sorts of weapon craft and martial arts on the side. Starting out as a shallow method to defeat boredom it was now a nasty weapon to be wielded in any way she saw fit.

Looking again into her captive from the darkness Ashta let her smile fade. He and everything about him belonged to her. By now his car should be scrap metal, or at least well on its way there. No one would find anything… "Erase" was the idea and from her past knowledge it was laughably obvious that nothing would be done. According to all the "Private" information she had fished out from him and the government he was hated by the police, had no family, and kept only three contacts which he rarely spoke to. Additionally he lived in a secluded part of the outskirts….alone nonetheless. And even if in the odd chance someone did something, she would be ready. All aside there was just one more thing to close.

Why she had liked him.

Ashta looked at the floor. Did she like him? She couldn't remember. Did it even matter? No. Would she relent? No. Youth were a lot more fun to torture anyway. They looked nicer and would often scream in greater intensity.

Smelling the fear, Ashta smirked; stepping into the room.

--

Ever growing, Kyle's fear began to escalate. Panic had not yet set in but his body still trembled despite his best efforts to control it. His captivator was stepping forward now leaving only seconds until the harrowing suspense ended.

He wished it hadn't…for what came next was far worse.

"_ASHTA!?"_

He thought he had screamed it. There was no fucking way it could be her! How could it? It was a dream…no it was a fucking nightmare! She wasn't here, his eyes were lying. Of all the people, this must have been this sickest joke fate had ever played on a human being. Unable to look away his muscles tensed and he leaned back for what little it was worth.

Ashta came closer extending her palm to grasp his chin, pulling gently as her face narrowed the distance between them. For a brief second she played with him, stroking the skin while he trembled. But then focusing a stare of hatred, she suddenly locked her grip on his windpipe; drowning her name as he tried to speak. He tried again but this time not even a letter came out. Her grip intensified and soon Kyle's attempt at avoiding panic was all but a memory as he tried his bonds, gasping silently but desperately at her iron grip. For ages he struggled, desperate for air as his head moved about with decreasing speed, attempting vainly to pry her off. Failing, his resistance weakened and he found himself looking straight into her hellish eyes before the lack of oxygen blurred them. Believing she was really going to kill him Kyle was just about to pass out when she abruptly released her grip, letting his head fall. His lungs heaved and for about a minute he just hung there gasping for air while Ashta fished under the tablecloth for her first weapon.

Still rasping as she moved behind him Kyle's thoughts again flooded his conscious. He was still in denial and his brain was moving to fast to think logically. The whole situation was still unbelievable and the initial trauma was doing a great deal to confuse any directed thoughts. The prospects of death and torture were becoming very real and a fear he had never felt before was gripping his insides.

Reflecting upon this Ashta was blank.

Approaching her target she readied her first device. Nothing too fancy or damaging, it was a basic flexible stick; more or less a crude beating rod, except it was very light and had the quivering tendency to deliver blows that were far more painful compared to similar devices. Warping the edge with her adjacent hand Ashta swung the device landing a hit that echoed down the hall.

Kyle screamed, feeling lightning scatter though his whole body. It was incredible at how painful the blow was, almost impossible. Even if it was the first it had definitely been the worst feeling he had ever experienced. Rushing to halt the attack with his voice a second blow pounded the breath out of him. Panting, he almost had enough air for a third breath when again it was blown out. Without the ability to scream the pain intensified and Kyle collapsed leaving the chains to hold his tight position themselves. The forth blow made his body shake a little, as again, he fought for air. With the fifth and sixth blows being no different Kyle was horrified to discover she was doing it on purpose. Just when he had enough air to scream she would strike and force it from his grasp. The timing was consistently perfect and the agony felt like hell. To make it worse, Ashta was fast enough to strike several blows at the same time and it wasn't long before the thighs, calves, and arms were all repeated targets. After only one minute the torment had Kyle on the ropes and was breathlessly begging to pass out. However mercy did not exist in Ashta's mind and she continued with an endless supply of stamina.

--

Kyle constricted, feeling needles in his lungs. It took five or six tries just to moan and even then it was weak and inhaled. He could barely lift his head and was covered in whatever remaining sweat she didn't beat off him. Her whipping had only lasted ten minutes but to him it might have been a hundred. Standing as a testament to her cruel treatment, his body was a mess of cross slashed bruises and littered red marks. All of it was stinging and the inability to bend over made it even worse. The nerves burned and all his muscles shook and twitched.

Ashta fingered the rod, flipping it in her hand as she walked to the front. Glancing at all the damage so far was scarcely enough to reduce a fraction of her anger; and ironically it would return in minutes anyway.

Clasping her hand around her victim's hair she yanked him up, reminding him the source of his pain. His eyes were pleading but she ignored it. It was only a check anyway. There were many things she had planned and couldn't afford for him to pass out just yet. Satisfied that the situation was favorable and not wanting to stay idle for too long she flexed her weapon, bending it back and striking the chest.

Kyle screamed.

Blow after blow, spike after spike, Ashta had decided to beat the front this time, and was pleased that Kyle found it much worse. And while the body received much attention, Ashta had decided not to touch his head. Although in a strange mindset she still liked his cute face as it seemed to heighten the pleasure of her work. She was beginning to settle into her twisted hobby now, like a warrior sinking into battle.

While not as strong mentally or physically as when it started, Kyle was still conscious enough to feel the full weight of every strike. Speech was now like a luxury and the chronic beatings were paving out his endurance. Even his thoughts scarcely existed as the only thing that had sufficient voice was his deafening desire for it to stop. Nonetheless there was nothing he could do and his body just hung there in helplessness.

* * *

End of chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

Update: Before you read, don't say I didn't warn you because I did twice. Oh, and sry if you got confused of me uploading this chapter again. I had to fix something.

* * *

Flaying her wrist to the side, Ashta listened as her final blow resonated though the countless rooms and corridors. Then in a rather satisfied way she stayed her hand, exchanging the hard rod for the soft touch of Kyle's skin. She hadn't been very gentle in the last ten minutes and by now she knew he was probably numb all over. Which in turn was hardly a motivator to continue.

Leaving him to gasp for air she withdrew to the doorpost, leaning against the stone while she waited for him to recover.

On the mirror side of Ashta's emotions, Kyle's mind was storming. Torn between the confusion, the shock, the pain, and the denial, he was having a hard time finding himself. He knew he had to calm down but that in itself seemed like an impossibility. After all, how could he?

However it might have been by some divine miracle that he did and over the minutes he slowly began to relax, partially comforted by the unhindered breathing that he was now privileged to. Shortly thereafter when his brain had enough oxygen, his curiosity began to perk and soon every part of him was asking the same universal question. One he could only whisper as she approached him.

"Why?"

She must have heard him, because at that moment her hand once again snaked its way around his jaw, creating a shiver as she pulled him up. Devoid of sympathy, she scanned him, thinking. Hardly at the question, but rather at the look in his eyes.

"_Amazing…"_ she mused cynically. He still had enough self-control to fight his fear; well, in his face at least. Still, it was bizarre, and it wasn't a common thing either since nearly all hope was lost when this kind of bondage was enforced. Perhaps he thought he was being punished unfairly? Or that he didn't deserve it?

"_How stupid, what a stupid fuck."_

Switching her grip to the back of his neck, Ashta pulled forward making sure she had his full attention.

"You know I hate you, that is enough."

"Hate" as she put it was an understatement though. Her enmity with him was so strong it transcended nearly all forms of definition. No one ever told her what to do, no one…

Roughly, Ashta pushed Kyle back having taken his question as a challenge. Not wanting to crush this "fight" so quickly she decided to skip her final round with the beating rod. To break his spirit with the other devices would be much more fun.

Casting the rod to the side Ashta pushed her hands into Kyle's body, paying special attention to the bruises that now marked it. Her fingernails dug in and his head reared, hiding his gritted teeth. Roaming here and there, she increased the pressure becoming more aggressive. And when finally Kyle couldn't take it any longer she melded her hands into his skin allowing his words to trail off in a string of blended vowels and consonants. She wasn't in the mood to hear the words "no", "please", and "stop" anyway, all of which were biblical to a torturer.

--

When her twisted mind told her it was enough she left him, digging under the cloth for the next item. Grasping a snake-like handle she soon found it; letting the end of its flexible attribute touch the floor. A simple bullwhip in its own sense it was among Ashta's favorites and had a black iron-forged handle with a hellish snake mouth fixed open on the end. The whip's color was jet black and the fabricated material had been uniquely tempered and specially conditioned not to rip skin. It was too early in the game for him to bleed yet and it would be an excellent weapon for causing intense pain with minimal to no blood.

Angling her arm Ashta brought the first strike without warning and slashed down the entire left side of her victim's back.

By the time Kyle screamed the whip had already retreated and all that was left was the same raping shower of needles and the well known spikes in his lungs. After his chest flogging it had been so hard to breath; and none of them were in full. His brain begged air but his body writhed with each try. But perhaps the worst thing was the ceaseless nature of it. Not even on their first meeting did Kyle think that she was this vile. It hardly seemed to be Ashta at all. More like a doppelganger from hell.

Searing, another hit lashed his skin forcing him to the support of the chains. Unable to think, the next two hours were soon to build into a blurry mixture of pain, begging, and raspy screaming. The last part had been easier though as his brain had finally pumped out enough endorphins to push him beyond delirious.

--

Composure unchanged, Ashta wore the same facial mask she had on two hours ago. The whipping had been easy and every blow had counted. She had been biding her time and never landed a hit that would exceed what she had planned next. Unfortunately to her Kyle was now incapable of receiving pain in its fullest and there was no point in damaging his body further. Losing the whip she found herself at the table. With Kyle off in his own world he wouldn't notice what she had for him next. But by the time he did it would be quite a 'jolt.'

Pulling out the advanced taser Ashta clinched her left hand, walking behind as she took aim. Then settling on the spinal column as the target, let the cackling darts rip away as the 75,000 volt machine yanked Kyle into a semi-conscious mind state. Needless to say the result was predictable but the reaction from her captive was less then satisfying…

Fine, she could play it that way…

Retrieving a small needle from under the blanket she quickly cocked the plunger wasting no time to inject the specialized chemical into Kyle's leg. He hardly felt the pain but it was beside the point as she knew he would soon find out its true purpose. The reduced time that it would take to flow to the brain due to blood flow was optional but now inevitable. But in the meantime, it meant nothing and Ashta squeezed the trigger again, electrocuting Kyle a further eight times before he finally passed out.

Never having passed out in his life Kyle was grateful that his first time was here. Any break from this misery was appreciated and he welcomed the thought that he could finally rest.

It was short lived though because at that moment a fiery drill spiked him, raping every path in his mind as it cleared all of his neurotransmitters. In the blink of an eye all the chronic pain he had experienced thus far came rushing back, married with the additional agony his brain had blocked. Nearly vomiting at its touch, his mind exploded. What the fuck!? He had passed out, he was sure of it. What did she do? Why was he awake again?

His teeth grinded and his eyes squinted at what felt like an orgasm of pain.

Why did it hurt even more?

It plagued him to know but it hurt too much to talk and he could tell by the taste of blood that sprinkled his throat that she must have damaged his lungs. Without the strength to lift his head, Kyle groaned as it happened anyway. Ashta was leveling his chin on her taser and it only took seconds before his eyes caught her face; and the eternity of its expression. An expression that promised him nearly everything he wished against.

The hopelessness Kyle felt grew stronger at that point, fueled by her cold eyes and the unrelenting spirit he saw behind them. He knew that he might never get out of here and was already saturated in defeat. So far Ashta had not relented one bit and was showing no signs of even considering the notion. She had become a monster…

Releasing his head, beside him his torturer put down the electric gun to unsheathe the dagger she wore around her thigh. Finding cloth, its first task was worse then any kind of skin damage it could incur as his last piece of clothing was stripped from him. Hammered emotionally, a new wave passed though him as the glands in his eyes suddenly tensed. He felt like crying; what had he done that was so evil to deserve this? He watched her with added shame while her hand found her second identical taser; turning away as she pointed it at him. This time his mind was fully alert as the electrocuting darts found his genitals.

Holding both guns Ashta alternated the two with increasing frequency before finishing with several dual bursts that would have surely ko'ed any normal human. Kyle's shrieks were unearthly but her composition had not changed and it was just as easy a task as any to remove the darts from burnt skin. The chemical she had used was malefic. A combination of several synthetics, notably the one similar to naloxone would all work together to create hell in a victim. Broken down, it had three major agents that would block any kind of pain defense opioid in the brain. Also it had a nervous system stimulate to increase sensitivity as well as an element to reduce fatigue. And while active would prevent unconsciousness or passing out for an extended period of time. Some sub agents included chemicals akin to pep pills and additional ones that kept the brain alert. Utterly, and ultimately it was a torturer's dream come true.

From her dominate position Ashta surveyed the situation, grinning deviously at Kyle's anguish; now it truly was impossible for him to escape from her.

Walking to the door Ashta reached outside, finding the electric controls and released the ankle chains from deep within the rock. She also raised the arm chains so that Kyle was now off the ground. She would need him to be anyway as this next part would be the end of her 'merciful' side. Collecting the portable drill from under the blanket Ashta matched it with a small metal box; setting them on the ground as she knelt.

Despite the chemical Kyle's thoughts were hazy and unfocused even though the pain was sharp and well known. The dragging question of "why me?" was still burning his subliminal and his conscious was curling in exhaustion. The shame of nudity and the denial of sleep had nearly deprived the will to live and the worst trait of it all was that it wouldn't stop. No mercy, no sleep, no escape…it was fucking worse then anything possible. Even the simple task of looking down took a lot of effort and when he finally did he wished he hadn't.

Ashta had just finished placing the mounting bracket in the drill upon which the first corkscrew bit rested tightly. Now, aligning the bit against his heel she spooled the machine, forcing the steel deep into his foot. Some blood appeared as it caught and the bone slowed the progress. But that didn't stop her. Ravaging the drill into angles quickly solved the problem; turning the stainless steel red. She pushed further ignoring the sound of bone chipping until the base of the twist was finally imbedded below the skin.

Kyle vomited, narrowly missing Ashta. He couldn't even begin to explain what that felt like and only had a second before she braced the next piece against the centre arch. The drill whined and Kyle's eyes rolled back; his throat dry from the lack of moisture.

Like a sadistic, Ashta continued to drill the ball of the foot and the adjacent area until it had four metal appendages sticking out. She then went on to the next one creating a mirror image to the havoc she caused the other. In the end small pools of blood had collected and the wounds dripped, but to her it was marginal. He wouldn't bleed to death from that alone.

Satisfied, she threw the drill to the side hitting the release outside the door. When Kyle's feet reached the floor his eyes widened as his weight was set on the needle thin metal rods that protruded one inch from his skin. His legs shook and he tasted blood but the rods didn't budge and given his weakness it was impossible to take the weight off them.

Allowing the ankle chains some slack for the shifting, Ashta came back into the room ripping the tablecloth and wiping the blood from his lips. She wasn't about to forget her self promise. Not even for all the pleasure he gave her.

She wanted more, weather it was the pleasure from his face or suffering she didn't care. She wanted more. And at the table she contemplated it, feeding the obsession that would slowly pull her into madness. Down here the real rules did not apply even though she had little reason to follow them at all. Volatile as can be, Ashta suddenly moved casting the tablecloth aside to reveal her final weapon.

A Whip.

Not just any whip though. To Ashta this whip was the king of whips and she griped the artistic handle slowly, savoring the feeling it gave her. Like her other whip this one was also jet black. However the handle had a much greater attention to detail and was bent like a shallow S. She had it inscribed with silver intertwining serpents which at the end came out in separating patterns with open jaws and looks of rage. The eyes of the serpents, whose craft might have resembled ying and yang, were highly detailed and their cores held no less then blue diamonds and blood rubies respectfully. But in comparison to the grip, the real fear lay with the whip's attack side. Nearly embarrassing her old one, this whip was a lot stronger, and in many areas held very small implanted wires. The tip was hardened to keep its power while striking and the metal fibers could lacerate and rip flesh quite easily. It was so diabolical she even invented a name for it and often called it the CAT whip on which the clever abbreviation "Callous Assisted Torture" held sway.

--

Kyle moaned a dry raspy sound. His head was drifting again and he hoped it was on its way to passing out. Ashta had been showing her back to him for some time and he had managed to control the supply of foot pain by not moving them. But now she again faced him and he felt his heart leap into his throat. Up until now even he knew that she had used weapons that did little damage to their victim. But the monster in her right hand looked as if it was certain to take every last drop out of him.

Apart from will his remaining strength again tried to withdraw from her and the thought that she really was going to kill him re-ignited.

Instead of rushing ahead, Ashta approached slowly and carefully. Then grasping the whip with both hands, she hooked it around his neck pulling him forward. His feet skidded and Kyle's eyes widened half and half from the pain and the impartial terror that occurred whenever she was close to him.

Now her face turned bitter, and she brought him closer telling him everything in wordless conversation. The hell wasn't going to end here.

Turning, Ashta let the whip trail letting Kyle feel the metal prongs as the weapon slithered off his neck; sipping blood as it went. Then, drawing back she flung her attack, causing the whip to cascade and dance in slow time before snapping her wrist like an Egyptian pharaoh.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Kyle was now certain that hell itself was beyond comparison as the shredding sound of his own flesh played the walls. Without thinking he squirmed violently, creating red streams from his shackles; forgetting all about his feet as he tried to evade. Controlled by instinct and overrun by fear he struggled to no avail whilst the whip bit and clawed at him; hungry for blood as it tore his skin like old clothing. He writhed, he screamed but it continued its cruel dance with him raking the ribs on several passes. Apathetic to mercy it ravaged his arms and legs as well, leaving its mark with sick maroon gouges. And, like a predator it soon moved to the back showing equal care in all angles as both skin and muscle were carved together.

In a mere matter of minutes its work had been both fast and agile leaving fresh red puddles to taint the ground.

--

In the centre of the room Kyle hung, coughing gravelly. This time he tasted a lot more blood and knew that the same liquid was probably coating his lungs. He was getting really dizzy, unaware that the brain chemical was weakening. However it was obvious, even to him, that she had deliberately missed any critical arteries or veins. "Why?" didn't make sense but so did "Why not?" and he tried not to even think about it. He still had a sliver of hope and wanted to believe that something would save him. Grim as it was he didn't want to die…

Again Ashta approached him unsheathing her small but evil dagger, unperturbed by the rancid smell of blood. On the backside of her dagger's incredibly thin blade were three shark spikes angled backwards which would perfectly suit what she had in mind. More suited to the work of a sadistic, they were dull from use and had found other purpose in their owner's hands.

Finding a bare spot on Kyle's right shoulder Ashta dug into the soft tissue with the sharp blade, ignoring the blood-curdling scream that followed. Slitting the muscle as easily as the skin she reversed the blade, twisting the three spines deeply into the gap. Making sure she hooked enough tissues she then jerked it, pulling upward toward the elbow; maintaining perfect control over the shaking arm.

Kyle shrieked as his vision grew dark on open eyelids. The sudden inability to see made the agony that much worse and the nightmarish sounds of tearing muscle were nauseating. At four inches from the start the blade was jammed and so Ashta gripped it hard, twisting and dragging until it was free; creating splashes as large drops of blood fell. Stained dark red, the dagger's backside still held muscle fibers when it entered her sheath. At the moment she didn't have time to clean the blade as the next part of the sequence was critical. Exiting the room quickly she moved across the hall leaving the gaping wound to pool with vital fluids.

* * *

End of chapter 3


	4. Chapter 4

Update: Chapter 4…It's a bit short because it was supposed to be the last one. The rest is being bitchy. I'll try to get the rest up later since the initial charisma of writing is nearing its end and I want to finish before I get lazy.

* * *

Opening the adjacent door Ashta smiled slightly to a smell she had gotten quite used to. In the middle of the room was a large pot filled with a flickering orange that illuminated the darkness; burning hot with the sound of cackling cinders.

Peering over the rim cast a strange shadow as the eerie light touched her face; making pale her already mysterious and evil visage. Waiting for her inside were two smoldering rods of iron, already on the threshold of white/orange from their prolonged stay in the fiery coals. Accompanying them was a sword equally hot with half its blade glowing intensely. The handles were warm to the touch and she grasped the first one by the insulation. For some reason this part always reminded her of that infamous "Indiana Jones" scene where the Nazi informant pulled a burning rod of iron out of the fire.

Raising the bar to her face, she inspected the tip, denying any comprehension as she turned.

--

Weakly, Kyle gasped and coughed again, growing sick of the bits of blood that came with it. Numbed both mentally and physically by the deteriorating drug and the malefic pain his mind was once again in a playful state too fevered to think clearly or logically. So when the strong scent of hot metal hit him it was met with stupidity.

"_..the hell's…burning?"_

No longer blind his eyes had become a narrow, blurry haze of jumbled objects and it was with childlike simplicity he wearily searched for the source. At first it was just a small orange light that caught his attention but a frame later and it had enough focus to bring in a diluted image of Ashta's face backed behind a rod of blazing iron. With time being warped he only had half the word "cauterizing" formed in his mind when the ambient heat engulfed his body and touched his skin.

The sizzling odor of burning flesh was quick to fill the room, eager to join the rising steam and antagonizing screams. The rod was too large to enter most of the slashes directly so to compensate Ashta simply held the rod to the area longer.

When the first bar had cooled down to a worthless temperature she retrieved the 2nd and continued the process, touching each and every wound until she had made sure that he had ceased bleeding. Ages passed for Kyle and despite the kicking, wriggling, and screaming could do nothing. The rank smell of hissing flesh put this on a level by itself. Never mind the knowledge that it was his own. He was far beyond the breaking point and had his mind been able to think would have surely believed that this was going to be the last thing he ever felt.

The process never ended though, because finally at that moment the last of the chemical lost its power over him and he was thrust into the unconscious realm.

--

Noting that he was again delirious and suffering mechanically Ashta spent a little more time and used a cloth and a cold pale of water from the hall to wash the blood away and cool the nerves. Hardly from the care of her heart, his body temperature needed reducing and it would at least provide an agent to calm the body away from what was going to happen next. Besides, instilling a feeling of hope no matter how small always brought more reward when she would return to crush it.

Taking two more needles of the previous substance Ashta quickly jammed them into Kyle's neck injecting the full contents. Three seconds later his eyes bulged and she stepped back to avoid the blood he vomited onto the floor. Then, wiping it clean from his mouth with the cloth, retreated into the blacksmith chamber to retrieve the last object.

The sword.

Ashta carried it to him in deliberate slowness, knowing full well that he wouldn't look away. Like a devil from the abyss she transcended the two portals between them. She didn't care about the physical pain this time and her actions were quick.

Grasping the genitals with her left hand she stretched them out, holding the base of the sword to the side. Then in one quick fluent motion pulled the blade straight up, slicing the organ akin to a hot knife. At full sensitivity, again, an equal to divine punishment hammered Kyle from the inside out shattering every nerve to the breaking point. Instantly his legs contracted but it was too late, the organ was gone and the wound cauterized completely. It happened so fast that Kyle didn't even realize what she had done until she forced his shaking neck downward to stare at her work. The mere sight of it made him shake harder and he felt sick with his mouth agape and his lips shaking. The involuntary impact was enough to create new rivers from his shackles as again for another countless time the world changed and whirled around him. When Ashta finally released her grip, his shifting body threw his head back

Ashta washed the fresh blood from her hands and picked up the drill. The chemical would last awhile but her immediate concern was that her victim was on the edge of life.

This in turn enraged her further as she knew death was the one thing she could not hold sway over. Taking a second metal box from the hallway, fourteen high caliber screws emerged having a half inch bore diameter and crafted in solid steel. The tips were sharp enough to be armor piercing but in this case human bone would be her only obstacle.

--

Having been mortified just short of the shock a catatonic would experience Kyle was again purged into ultimate dread. In this rare case the pain hardly mattered, it was now background to something that couldn't be matched. The shock left him mute; the very concept of nothing was now halted in the light of what had just happened. More then sex or mere pleasure his ability to create a family had been destroyed. There were simply no words that could describe the void inside him. Empty, depressed, or even rejected didn't even come close. It was something else, something from another realm that having experienced, would be wished on no one. Shallow denial, hopelessness, and true despair were all present, and at full strength they mocked him.

Ashta grabbed him, this time by the neck.

Tensing her fingers, she stared coldly into Kyle's eyes which to her almost looked innocent; their reflection becoming glassy and weak. But granted she had expected that due to her lack of explanation. Kyle still didn't understand that she did all this for a reason. However it didn't mean she would give it. Reasons were her own and silence was of no consequence, just like his. He had rejected her so she was rejecting him; it was as simple as that.

Chaotically, Ashta suddenly snapped, feeling her blood boil at the random thought. Taking the drillable rivet-like screws she became deaf and heard nothing this time as they all made contact with various parts of leg marrow. The drill's power cracked and split the inner bones easily but her anger only increased. She forced them deeper and harder but it didn't matter…her rage flared.

It was blind madness.

* * *

End of chapter 4


	5. Chapter 5

Update: Final chapter

* * *

Kyle's weight now sat on ten deeply fastened rivets; all buried deep into the flesh of his legs, forming little trickles that ran downward. Both his knee caps had also received one and two more had been installed into each foot. Needless to say the crushed bones within only helped to add pain to the unyielding corkscrews that impaled his feet.

During this time Ashta's mood only grew worse. She couldn't even explain it herself, but being weak to the acrid abyss of anger threw herself into the next step. A circular kind of clamp waited outside the door and she quickly snatched it, bringing it hastily over to Kyle and fastening it above the left elbow.

Now as she cranked the centre knob the arch between the two grips grew shorter, stressing the bone into a tensioned bow. And at length, having no other choice snapped like a twig. Kyle in turn gurgled, coughing up more blood still as his scream was denied. His body weight shifted and his muted agony stretched as more weight was favored to the dagger wounded shoulder. Shortly thereafter his other arm broke in the same place and he rolled his eyes as gravity eased him a little deeper onto those evil rivets and merciless screws.

Throwing the clamp, Ashta spent a few seconds ringing the fracture's with her hands, milking as much agony as the event could leave. She knew the arms wouldn't fall off despite how thin they were, but continued thrashing would indeed cause heavy elastic damage. Something that was probably going to happen a lot in the next few minutes…

Gagging on the blood in his throat Kyle tried to keep it from his windpipe. It never occurred to him that drinking his own blood would one day would be necessary to keep him alive.

He was so damn tired yet his mind was the furthest from. He hated that syringe that Ashta used, and the pain it put him though even more so. The suspended animation of constant, uninterrupted torment rivaled nothing. The truth of no longer being a man was mortifying, and the sight of the open door lingering ahead made him sick.

That damn door.

Every time he saw it he wished he could just run and ignore everything his body told him. It was so bizarre how torture made people like children again, hardly innocent…but nevertheless pure with one desire…

More then ever he wanted to live…

* * *

Click!

Although so quiet, the faint sound dripped terror even though its echo held no more then a whisper. Now without skin, Ashta's face grinned evilly at her clawed metallic hand.

"The Talon" as she liked to call it was inarguably the most wicked device in her arsenal. Even by her standards. And rightly so, as something this evil could only fit on a hand of her caliber.

Holding it to the light made her smile, and she rotated its pale grey form, testing the movement and noting the large spines which descended from her finger tips. Resembling inverted shark fins, their titanium design was strong and sharp enough to cut metal…yet alone skin. The prows were thick and their diamond coated blades were so sharp they even put her infamous dagger to shame.

Knowing that such weapons would be suicide without protection, Ashta had deliberately designed the rest of the hand to be incased in metal as well. It had been expensive and extremely complex but in the end she was satisfied with the result. And strangely enough it wasn't some bulky hideous object but a weapon of curved elegant beauty. The limitations it put on hand movement were next to zero and the dark silvery polish it bore was mesmerizing.

If ever a weapon could be designed into a neo-claw this was it.

Walking behind, she started on Kyle's back aiming just below the right shoulder. Using only the index finger to cut it effortlessly glided though the skin leaving a line of red in its wake. Some of the cauterized whip marks were tougher but these too were hardly noticeable and their resistance to her skinning marks was laughable. She crisscrossed, ignoring the all too familiar background noise and finished the first pattern at 90 degrees. Then hooking two of her spikes into the flap ripped it open, cutting the first layer of muscles that tried to oppose her.

Her other hand assisted and the talon moved to extend the lines stopping only to cut the occasional tendon or clinging ligament. The flap grew larger and she slowed all the more making sure he felt every inch of it. Her target was shuddering violently and even above the sound of ripping flesh she could hear the bones grinding as his arms flopped from convulsion.

Moving across the spinal column, brute force was required to tear some of the internal's away and when she had gotten a good look at his insides she stopped; allowing the piece of skin to hang backwards.

Glancing further at the internal mappings of the body she then moved to the front letting the blood fall and run in its many rivers toward the ground. It truly was amazing from the amount of blood spilled that he had any left at all. But she couldn't wonder about that now. Kyle's eyes were getting glassy and she knew he was finally starting to slip into the whirlpool from which there was no return. She had planned other things for him but at the rate he was falling there was probably only time for one more.

Taking her metal hand, Ashta pressed it on his thinned ribcage indenting a bloody hand mark amidst the whip lacerations and burn marks. After all the pleasure she had received from him it was a shame that it had to end now. It would have been wonderful if there was no such thing as death. She would have continued forever.

Gently she held his face for the last time, loving that innocent look; grinning as he saw her vaguely. Everything became quiet and for about a minute nothing happened, as she said nothing.

But then as vicious as her unpredictable mood swings she plunged the chest, raking all sides as she tore meat from bone around the rib cage. For Kyle the critical blood loss point was dangerously close and the numbness that reached his mind was warping every sensation out of place. The detachment from reality began and the world had become silent.

When her fingers' extensions had cleared most of the flesh, Ashta slammed on the ribcage, easily fracturing it and she clawed her way bone by bone. Cutting some and snapping others to give way to the cavity. And at long last she strained as the last barriers were pried apart.

Reaching inside to the heart she clasped it carefully, its beat being weak in her grasp. Feeling the life giving vibration was very soothing and the fact that she held it elated her even higher. Cautiously but firmly she then retracted with the vital organ in tow. It resisted for a second but then one by one like rubber bands, the arteries snapped and she, Ashta, held Kyle's heart in her metallic hand. Kyle saw it, but he didn't understand; and even when she began to grind it into ribbons the care of it or anything else seemed to distance itself. Everything had become so quiet and peaceful. All the pain had left him and had he been able, might have cried as death embraced him.

* * *

Picking up Kyle's chin, Ashta again stared into his face taking what she wanted. It was over and her subordinates could clean up this mess. This example should be sufficient to show them where disagreement would lead.

Cutting the lights she left, and the smell of death filled the room.

--

Epilogue

Blood blended with the rusted sink. In the flickering light Ashta stared at the mirror. It had been sometime since she saw herself as the torturer and now it lapsed. Rationally she didn't care, it didn't matter. So why was it that now a spark of remorse had appeared in her mind? Could it be she actually missed him?

_Bullshit…_

Still the emotion lingered, and it in turn enraged her, ironically making it stronger. Until finally she crushed the mirror with the bloody talon, staining it red as hundreds of faces looked back at her…

* * *

Well that's it. An over detailed torture sequence complete with choppy and rather pathetic view point changes. I'm sure you can agree with me that the writing style needs work. (Idk about u but the over detail bores the hell out of me and takes away most emotional qualities. It just that the story was written 2 months ago and reworking the entire thing into a new view point would have been worse then the torture I described here.) I'm trying to find a "smoother" way of explaining things so that it doesn't choke story flow. A hard task for me. If you enjoyed it I am pleased that my work wasn't in total vain. And if you didn't well like I said at the end of chapter 1 "I'm a beginner but I'm trying to be a good writer."


End file.
